Can't Afford to Love
by PoeticChick
Summary: Zidler and Marie reminisce and attempt to rekindle old flames; a short story.


Title: Can't Afford to Love  
Rating: PG (for mild language)  
Summary: Zidler and Marie reminisce and attempt to rekindle old flames; a short story.  
Disclaimer: I did not create any of these wonderful characters, but the ideas are mine. Everything else belongs to the extraordinary Baz. Please note: if the formatting of the story is sort of messed up, I apologize! Feedback is greatly appreciated, especially as this is my first MR fic.  
  
  
"Ma cherie?"  
"Damn!"  
The suddenness of the greeting as it shattered the silence startled Marie, and she jumped, pricking her finger with the needle. With a sigh, she tossed aside the skirt she'd been hemming and squinted at her index finger. A drop of blood appeared where she'd jabbed herself, and she raised the finger to her lips, sucking the blood off of the small wound. She raised her eyes, staring questioningly at Harold Zidler as she took her finger out of her mouth.  
"What is it?" she snapped, impatient and eager to finish her mending. Honestly, the sewing pile grew larger and larger every day as girl after girl slipped into her room with a skirt or petticoat or pair of panties to be mended. Marie never asked how the garments were damaged in the first place; she'd been young once, and she didn't need, nor did she want, any explanation.  
Marie was drawn away from her thoughts when Zidler sat down beside her on the tired old bed, plucked the needle from her fingers and laid it on the table, and regarded her seriously.  
"Do you know what today is?" Zidler asked, his usual joviality replaced by serious, hushed tones.  
Marie sniffed. "Why should I know?" she asked, glancing quickly at him out of the corner of her eye, her heart quickening.  
"I'm one year older today, Marie," Zidler said, "And I can't help but think about the way my life was ten years ago and how it's changed since then."  
"Of course it's changed," Marie scoffed, "Everybody changes."  
She was surprised when Zidler took her hands in his large, warm ones.  
"Ten years ago," he said evenly, "I had just met you."  
Marie's expression softened as she remembered.  
"I was still dancing then," she whispered, "And you'd just taken over the Moulin Rouge," she smiled, "And I was *so* taken with you. I thought you were the handsomest man I'd ever laid eyes on, and believe me, I'd laid eyes on many." She regarded Zidler for a moment, then said, "And if I remember correctly, you were quite taken with me, as well."  
"You remember right," Zidler replied, "And I'm sure you remember that evening...and that night..." He brushed Marie's pale cheek with a single finger, his touch as soft as a whisper. Despite herself, Marie shivered.  
"Oh, I remember that night," she chuckled finally, "And all of the nights after that."  
They sat in silence for a few more minutes, both lost in their glorious past, and then Marie's expression hardened.  
"I also remember the night you told me it was over," she said, her tone bitter. God, what a fool she'd been.  
"What do you mean?" Zidler asked, sounding somewhat mystified.  
"'We're creatures of the underworld; we can't afford to love,'" Marie said mockingly, "That's what you said to me, remember that?" She knew by the look on his face that he did. She kept talking, seemingly unaware that she was speaking at all.   
"I had just returned from warming some rake's bed and was looking forward to being back in your arms. You greeted me at the door, fully dressed, and you said that we couldn't go on like we were, we couldn't be romantically involved.  
"I remember demanding to know why, why had you had such a drastic change of heart when just the night before you said you would never stop loving me?" Her voice broke here, the pain of ten years ago evidently not having faded. "And you muttered something about not being able to have a real relationship because of who we were: a *pimp* and a can-can dancer. And I started crying..."  
Marie's voice was thick with unshed tears now, and Zidler's eyes glistened in the dim light.  
"And that's when you said, 'We're creatures of the underworld, and we can't afford to love,' and I asked you what the *hell* that meant, and you just turned and left."  
She turned to stare angrily at Zidler, her lips quivering from sadness and rage, "And now you're coming here on your birthday to drag up sorry old memories, why?"  
Zidler pulled at a loose thread on his jacket and then said, "Because I miss you and want you back."  
Marie was silent for a moment and then began to laugh a dry, hoarse laugh, "You want me back? Me, an aged ex-can-can dancer? As far as I know, Harold, nothing has changed. I'm still at the Moulin Rouge and so are you. The only difference is I sleep in my own bed at night instead of some *customer's*."  
"You never used to be so harsh," Zidler commented after a lengthy pause.  
"I used to be in love with a man, and then he broke my heart," Marie said, her voice devoid of all emotion.  
Zidler rose. "So, I suppose your answer to my question is no. At least tell me: why?"  
"I'm sorry."  
"Don't apologize," Zidler held up a hand as he walked towards the door.  
Marie's voice trembled. "I got burned once, Harold, and with nothing left to lose, I'm not going make the same mistake twice. I can't afford to love you."  
His hand on the doorknob, Zidler glanced back at Marie, whose hands were folded on her lap. She gazed up at him sadly.  
"Tell *me* one thing now, Harold: why?" she asked, her voice still quavering, "Why did you leave me?"  
"It was like I often say: you should never fall in love with a woman who sells herself, for it always ends badly," Zidler replied, almost wistfully, "The jealousy was driving me mad, Marie, so in a way...I suppose I couldn't afford to love you, either."  
With that, Zidler left the room, leaving Marie to her thoughts. She sighed deeply and picked up the needle and skirt, blinking back the hot tears that threatened to spill onto her cheeks.   
  
  
THE END 


End file.
